Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye
(click here for full text)
So standing on this windswept lawn at Chrysler Park in Oelwein, and then standing on the banks of the Mississippi River later this spring day in Dubuque, conjures the spirit of a bygone era and of a determined ancestry traversing these undulating prairies and untrammeled landscapes. The senses are heightened, and when the wind catches the grass just right, the ensuing aroma can be described only as green. It is spring in Iowa, to be sure.
Springtime and the cerebral, literary rebirth is a fine time to reassess where we are as a civilization. Earth Day, on April 22, is the international bugle call to start treating the environment better, and certain sectors of society are already in the process of tailoring their commerce and plying their trade with shades of green in mind.
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
and here's a picture of two rabbits fucking